The House On Jindalee Lane
Page 35
Flashing lights reflected in the rear-view mirror.
She tensed. What now?
She brought the car to a stop, turned the radio off, pulled the sunglasses from her face and fastened two of the buttons on her blouse, reluctantly bringing back the cover she’d only just let loose.
The police car drew up behind. The lights flickered a jagged line across the breadth of the burnt-red road for a few seconds, then stopped. She checked the side mirror and held her breath as she recognised the officer getting out of the marked wagon, adjusting his cap and taking his time as he moved towards her car. Did they teach them how to walk like that? A contained stride, without haste but full of objective.
She’d seen too many cops in very different circumstances but this one put her on edge in a way she wasn’t accustomed to.
He came alongside the driver’s door, his shadow falling on her car and shielding her from the glow of the early evening sunshine. She moistened her lips and ignored the warmth building inside her that had nothing to do with the weather. Against all her better instincts, she was riveted.
He put his hands on the heavy equipment belt sitting on his waist. ‘Sorry about the lights. Didn’t mean to frighten you but I needed you to stop.’
‘I thought I must have been speeding,’ she said with a hint of a laugh, but it came out nervously.
He knocked the brim of his cap back with a finger, strands of short, dark brown hair visible above his ears and at the back of his neck. ‘Actually, I did clock you doing seven over the limit.’
‘Sorry.’
The tanned skin at the corner of his mouth creased with a smile. ‘I’ll overlook it this time.’
Well over six foot, built like a football player, he wore the blue of that intimidating uniform as though he’d been born in it, displaying authority with a laid-back demeanour and managing to make her feel as shy as the nineteen-year-old she’d once been. Too long ago. Too many broken dreams ago.
‘So what have I done wrong?’ It pained her to ask, but she had to appear normal because she had no intention of telling him or any police officer what had happened to her three months ago.
‘You haven’t done anything wrong, Rachel.’ He tipped his head, a familiar gleam appearing in his eyes. ‘Hi, by the way. How are you?’
She allowed him a smile, although truthfully it came almost naturally, which was another worry. She hadn’t seen him around town the last couple of days. She’d wondered where he was but hadn’t asked anyone.
‘I heard what happened outside the hotel,’ he said.
She remained still but her nerve endings roared to life.
‘Just wanted to check you were okay.’
‘Your constables helped. And it wasn’t just me, there were two other women being pestered.’
‘I know.’
‘So do you want to ask me a question or something?’ she asked, amazed at how well she was keeping it together.
Immediately, she realised she’d given him an opening. One she didn’t want him to take.
‘Well I have asked you out twice now,’ he said, a gentle glow in his eye. ‘But I didn’t follow you out here, flashing the lights, to ask you to have dinner with me.’ He paused, maybe giving her a chance to speak, but she kept quiet. ‘I saw you drive out of town in a rush. I got a bit worried about you.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t have to apologise. Like I said, you did nothing wrong.’
Oh, God, but she had.
‘Will you come into the station tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘Tell me what happened?’
She’d left the scene as soon as the young constable had turned up and as soon as she’d known the other two women were okay. ‘There’s not much I can tell you,’ she said. ‘I was only on the periphery of it. The men were drunk. Noisy—you know—making a nuisance of themselves.’
‘Yes, they were,’ he acknowledged, ‘And they frightened you.’
He’d never know how much.
‘Thank you, Senior Sergeant Weston, but I’m fine.’
‘You can call me Luke. And I don’t make that offer to everyone around town. Only the chosen few.’
‘I’d prefer to keep it official.’ Her eyes were drawn to his uniform. He’d been a detective until a couple of years ago. She hadn’t asked why an ex-detective would be in charge of small outback town. She never asked questions, and hated answering them. The last thing she wanted was to add more trouble to her life.
She swallowed the sudden ache in her throat—a thick, choking longing so intense it puckered her heart. She breathed deeply and banished loneliness to some other place. She had solitude. Being lonely was something she’d have to put up with.
‘Rachel,’ he said, putting his hands either side of her car door as he leaned in to her, ‘what’s wrong?’
She shook her head, but couldn’t look at him. She’d thought the memories of her past were fading like the scars, but this last fortnight while she was lying her head off at the nice people around her, they’d returned. Worry about her past didn’t come only in her nightmares. It happened in the daytime too and the memories had returned earlier when those men at the hotel had surrounded her and two other women, drunkenly laughing and joking. Not vicious but behaving with thick-headed stupidity. They’d frightened the life out of her.
‘Hey,’ he said softly, breaking into her dark thoughts. ‘Rachel Meade. Hello. You still with me?’
A flash of guilt shot through her, but she managed to look up and to keep her focus on him. Rachel Meade was her fourth identity—if she counted her real one. He didn’t know that.
‘Sorry, what were you saying?’
He crouched so his face was at her window. ‘I was saying I don’t want you worried about these guys. They’re passing through. We’ve got our eye on them at all times. Understand?’
She nodded.
‘Are you worried one of them might follow you out here?’
She almost laughed. ‘No.’ She was only worried about one guy—and he was hopefully all memory.
‘You ought to consider moving into town, you know. It’s pretty lonely out at the Laurensen place.’
‘I like it out there.’ And she needed to be alone in order to grow out of the worry and maybe take a gamble on her future.
‘Feeling better now?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Good. And any time you’re concerned—about anything—call it in, would you? I’d prefer to know you’ll do that, otherwise I’m going to keep worrying about you.’
She looked at him and smiled. Beneath his professionalism, he was showing her his protective side. He liked her, truly liked her. But she couldn’t trust him.
‘I will,’ she told him, still smiling when she ought to be wiping it from her face. If only life had been different. If only she’d met someone like Luke Weston a long time ago. Before she’d been married. ‘But I’m fine. Honestly. I won’t need your protection.’
‘You’ve got it anyway.’ He put his work-toughened hands on the rim of her window and stood. ‘All part of the service.’
His smile was sultry now, and the glow in his eyes too engaging. He opened up envelopes she’d prefer to keep sealed. So why was she still smiling at him?
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First Published 2017
First Australian Paperback Edition 2017
ISBN 9781489241023
The House on Jindalee Lane
© 2017 by Jennie Jones
Australian Copyright 2017
New Zealand Copyright 2017
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